


Needs and Wants

by SaraNoH



Series: The Cellist [4]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Missing Scene, episode follow-up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-04-24 20:50:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 17,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4934821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaraNoH/pseuds/SaraNoH
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil Coulson's life has always been about going after things that needed done, but could now possibly be the time to go after what he wants?  </p><p>Canon divergence of Agents of SHIELD and a continuation of the stories "The Paths We Carve", "The Cellist", and "The Director".</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Laws of Nature

“You don’t have to come with us,” Phil says for the third time. 

“You going to have Leo help you button up your suit?” Anna challenges. “Because you can manage your new look—which I approve highly of, by the way—with your one hand, but we both know why you haven’t worn a tie.” The fingers of his good hand twitch at her words. “I could pre-tie it for you, if you don’t want to ask Leo for help.”

She’s made the offer every morning since he was cleared for work. He can button shirts for the most part—takes ten times longer but he can still do it—as well as zipping up zippers. But tying a tie one-handed knot is a bitch and he still hasn’t quite mastered it well enough. Thankfully, Anna can tie any number of knots in her sleep. Every morning, she makes the same offer to help him dress, yet every morning he says no. But this isn’t a typical morning. “You’ll ruin the silk,” he says. “No pre-tying.”

“Then I guess I’m going with you.”

“Anna—“

“You’re not going to a combat zone,” she tells him. “You’re going to England to have an impossibly difficult conversation. Let me help you.”

He can count the number of times on one hand—no pun intended —that someone has made such a heartfelt effort to help him in the last three months. May is still in the wind and who knows if and when she’ll be back. Sk—Daisy is busy running around handling the Inhuman debacle. And as much as Phil would love to say she needs his help and he can once again be her mentor, she’s grown into her own and is handling things quite well by herself. Bobbi and Hunter are trying to keep it a secret that they want to go after Ward, but Phil knows that burning need too well not to recognize it in others. Mack has stepped up as the calming figure for everyone, a broad-shouldered camp counselor who is keeping everyone as even keel as possible. Including his boyfriend.

Aforementioned boyfriend, though. 

Phil fights off a sigh. He wasn’t lying when he told Fitz how much he respects him for not giving up on Jemma. He’s almost jealous that he hasn’t maintained the same tenacity for truth that the young man has fostered. But despite that, they have to move on. They absolutely need it. Jemma would want them to keep going, keep fighting. Or at least, Phil hopes she would. He certainly needs Fitz’s focus to be returned to team activities. Hell is about to reign down on the planet if they don’t stop the spread of the terrigen crystals’ effects. Plus, and this will sound so very trite compared to the state of the world, Phil needs a good hand. Fitz has tried several models up to this point, but none of them are quite right. He can’t help but wonder if thoughts about Jemma were distracting Fitz enough to cause design flaws because his new plane is amazing, but his mechanical fingers, not as much. 

“Well?” Anna asks from her seat on the bed.

“You stay on the plane,” Phil says. He makes sure his voice isn’t harsh enough for it to sound like an order, but for the sake of what little remains of his sanity at the moment, he needs her safe. 

“Fine,” she agrees. “I’m going more for you than her parents.”

The corner of his mouth quirks up on in a smile, and he leans down to kiss her on the forehead. “How long will it take you to pack?” With a smug smile, she pulls out a full overnight bag from under the bed. 

Twenty minutes later, they board the Quinjet requisitioned for the trip. Their pilot—an agent Dylan who recently came out of hiding in Africa to join the team at their headquarters—picks up on the fact that his passengers don’t want to be disturbed, and he stays in the cockpit. 

Mack is apparently mirroring Anna in a forced form of moral support. He catches up on reports on the way over, but Phil catches the man casting glances at Fitz every now and then. Fitz himself stares at his hands. His knuckles are still bloody from last night’s rampaging against the rock. Phil watched the video again the morning. While he was proud of the progress Fitz has made in becoming proficient with firearms and his growing confidence in tense situations, it broke his heart to watch the man beat against the rock and shout at it to do something.

And once again, Phil is jealous that the scientist had the guts to do something Phil only imagined doing.

He hears Anna rustling through her overnight bag before she pulls out the satchel that contains her makeup. She undoes her harness and crosses the aisle to take the jump seat next to Fitz. She most have noticed his handless arm reaching out to stop her from moving around in flight—even though it was absolutely safe to do so—because she shot him an annoyed look before turning to Fitz.

“I can cover that up if you want,” Anna offers as she begins to rummage around for concealer. “Wouldn’t want to alarm Jemma’s parents by seeing your hands all cut up, right?”

“You know how to do that?” he asks quietly, his right foot continuously bouncing up and down.

Anna nods. “Grew up around a bunch of Army officers, then married one. They’d get into scuffles—some sanctioned, some them being idiots—and then have to show up in dress uniform six hours later. They looked pristine,” she tells him as she starts dabbing the makeup on his knuckles with a sponge. “But if you stick your hands in your pockets or rub at them, it’s going to come off. And makeup is a bitch is get off of clothes.”

“Thank you,” Fitz says.

She gives him a soft smile before kissing his cheek. “Thank you, Leo, for fighting as hard as you did for her.”


	2. Purpose in the Machine

Anna pushes down the sensation of bile rising in her throat and knocks on the doorframe. Andrew looks up from the file folder in his hands and smiles. “Anna, something I can help you with?”

“Yes, actually,” she says as she enters the makeshift office and sits on the opposite end of the couch as the therapist. “I need you to bring May back.”

Andrew sighs. “Despite what you all may think, I don’t have any special persuasive powers over Melinda.”

“I don’t care,” Anna replies. “I need her back, and I need her back now.”

“What’s going on?” Andrew asks, his eyes squinting.

Anna looks over her shoulder. She probably should’ve shut the door, but she hopes that since most people of the team is off in Britain following another lead from Fitz that no one will pass by the doorway and overhear their conversation. She also hopes Phil won’t care that she’s about to have this conversation. “Phil and I didn’t go to Korea for a vacation.”

Andrew frowns slightly. “Did you play at a concert?”

“No, we-- I had a pro--” She sighs and runs her hands through her curls. “I’m pregnant. That’s why we went. A doctor Phil knows—“ 

“Congratulations,” Andrew interrupts with a smile.

Anna wants to share his joy, but can’t. “That’s the thing. Phil has this whole plan of how he’s going to phase himself out and slowly put May in charge of everything so he can step away and be an actual father instead of team dad.” 

“But he can’t do that if Melinda isn’t around?” Andrew asks, and Anna nods. “How are you feeling about all of this?”

Anna snorts. “I cannot fully verbalize how much I don’t want to be psychoanalyzed right now.”

Andrew grins again. “Not my intention, just habit.” 

They both sit in silence, and Anna internally curses the man before she starts to spill. “I had to change my medication, so that’ hasn’t been easy. And then there’s the whole fear of losing this one like I did the last time I had a baby. Then, Phil’s dealing with losing his hand on top of May disappearing on him. He won’t even hardly talk about Jemma being gone. He wants to be happy about this, but…”

“Doesn’t sound like this is what you two planned,” Andrew offers.

Anna laughs bitterly. “Pretty much sums up our entire relationship. I don’t know why I thought this would be different.” 

“Anyone else know? I don’t mind talking to you at all, but in case I’m not around, is there someone other than Phil?”

She shakes her head. “It’s never felt like the right time to tell everyone else. My sister still thinks Phil’s dead, and I really don’t know how to get around that just yet. And for the last year, all of my friends have been his friends first.”

“Sounds like you need your own support team,” Andrew suggests.

Anna shrugs. “I bounced around from city to city when I was playing professionally. Anyone I meet outside of S.H.I.E.L.D. either can’t know about Phil at all or we have to lie about who he is. Same goes with all of the people around here.” She looks down at her lap and studies her fingers. Thankfully, Andrew figures out the words she’s scared to say next.

“And you’ve already been used once against Phil. And now if someone find out about—“

“Yeah,” she says, her anxiety threatening to spike again. “I want this. As much as it can paralyze me with fear sometimes, I do want this. And so does Phil. Badly, in fact. But…” Her voice trails off as she shrugs again.

“How are you coping?” Andrew asks.

“My cello’s seen more action lately than normal.”

“I’m sure anyone near an air vent connected to the stair well you practice in appreciates that.”

Anna smiles. “They’d probably appreciate it more if I played fewer songs in minor keys.” 

“How are you feeling physically?” Andrew presses.

“Nausea is only bad when Phil’s gone on a mission, but that was case before I was pregnant. Mostly, I just fall asleep anywhere and everywhere. Phil’s been calling me Rip Van Winkle.”

“He’s probably just jealous you’re getting rest.”

Anna nods, but then goes back to looking at her hands. “He worries. Too much some days. It’s part of why I love him—how much he cares about everyone around him—but it’s just getting harder and harder on him to do this by himself, and I can’t help him. I try to get him to tell me to open up more about things, but he’s keeping things quiet so I don’t worry and get stressed out, and… I knew this wouldn’t be perfect, but I thought it would be a little easier than this,” she admits.

Andrew sighs. “I’ll see what I can do about talking to Melinda, but Maui didn’t end like either of us expected.” 

“Technically, you’ve got twenty-nine weeks until my due date, but the sooner, the better.”


	3. A Wanted (Inhu)man

“I think I’m going to go to my sister’s.”

Anna’s words cause Phil to pause in his chopping. He looks up from his half-diced pile of veggies to find Anna sitting on the couch, her back to him. “Any particular reason why?” he asks before going back to his cutting. 

“I haven’t seen her since before I found out you were still alive.” She stands from the couch and holds a hand out in his direction. “Not blaming you; I’d just rather be around you than her. And I can already feel my pants getting tight, so it’s kind of a now or never thing.”

“What’s your other reason?”

She glares at him for seeing through her poker face, but he’s gone toe-to-toe with the likes of Nick Fury—she can’t fool him. “I don’t want to be a distraction.” Anna says it in the tone of voice that is meant to be calm and reasonable but is clearly just an attempt to keep his temper from spiking. He takes his deep breath as his gut instinct to get angry kicks in. He doesn’t need to hear another round of being critiqued on his decision to team up with the ATCU; Daisy had already given him multiple earfuls. “I know you’re starting up some secret something-or-other with whats-her-face—“

“I heard rumors of pregnancy brain being a thing but I didn’t realize—“ 

His words are cut off when she stomps on his foot and then steals a few pieces of diced carrot just for spite. “You put on your pissy face whenever I read over your shoulder—“

“Because it’s classified information.”

“—and refuse to talk to me about work anymore.”

“Doctor Cho said to keep you away from as much stress as possible.”

Anna rolls her eyes. “Because dealing with you all bottled up and angry is less stressful.” 

Phil grinds his jaw and tries his best to swallow a sigh. He’s mostly successful. “So you’re going to go see your sister?”

“For a week, yeah. Be back here in time for my next appointment and before I lose my mind being around her and her perfect life.” She must notice his grimace because she rests a hand on his left shoulder. “Phil, if I wanted a perfect life, we never would’ve made it past the second date.”

“Will you be mad if I ask you take someone with you?” he asks.

“I’m not sure you can spare anyone.”

“Not here, no.”

“Clint?” she questions. 

Phil nods. “You heard anything from him since Sokovia?”

“That he was trying to patch things up with his ex-wife and spending some time with his kids, but not much since then. You?”

He shakes his head. “I try not to bug him when he’s having private time unless the world is about to come apart at the seams. Maybe he and Laura can work it out.” 

Anna inspects his knife skills. “You want to talk about why you demanded that you be the one to cook dinner and selected the most complicated recipe you know for us to eat tonight?”

“Not really,” he answers.

“Good talk,” she replies as she moves back to the couch and picks up a tablet. 

“You see Jemma while I was gone?” Phil asks.

Anna shakes her brown curls. “We both prefer to spend our time sleeping these days. She seems to be pretty jumpy around anyone who isn’t Leo.”

“You could play for her,” Phil suggests.

Anna looks over his shoulder with annoyance. “She’s overly sensitive to all sights and sounds. How is a cello supposed to be anything but stress-inducing?”

He rolls his lips before broaching the next subject, the one he could talk about for hours, but will cause Anna to instantly clam up. “How are you feeling today?”

“Fine,” she answers tersely. 

Phil can read the sudden tightness in her shoulders and lets the subject drop. She’s fine discussing appointments, complaining about pants getting tighter, and poking fun at herself for a sudden uptick in naps, but talking directly about how they’re going to be parents? Still not okay. Surely it will be eventually before there’s a screaming elephant in the room. At least he hopes so.

He knows she’s terrified. He is, too. But despite Doctor Cho’s promises that the embryo she randomly selected to be implanted in Anna didn’t have any genetic chance of a heart defect, they’re both well too aware of how many other things can go wrong. Anna is more painfully reminded of it than he ever could be. He silently wonders if she’s counting down to some point where she let her walls come down and be okay with openly discussing the baby. And he hopes he didn’t screw up their relationship permanently for pushing her into this.

He sighs as he dumps the veggies into the pot. He knows his grandmother’s vegetable soup recipe won’t heal most wounds, but hopefully, it will at least ease a worry or two.


	4. Devils You Know

“I can’t believe they still call you Pretzel,” Julia comments as she puts away the dishes Anna is drying. 

“Of course they do, for I am Auntie Anne,” Anna replies with a superior smile.

Julia shakes her head. “They’re teenagers now. Morgan barely looks at anything that isn’t her phone, and Jason mostly communicates through grunting.”

“I’ve found that’s pretty typical for all males regardless of age,” Anna says. Her sister smiles, but she keeps an eye on Anna as she moves around the chili pepper themed kitchen (an unfortunate homage to Anna’s brother-in-law’s love of spices). It’s then that Anna remembers what it means when Julia has this particular look on her face. “What mystery are you trying to politely trying to solve in your head?”

“Other than why you showed up here out of the blue and are willing to stay more than however long your layover is at the airport?” Julia questions. 

Anna sticks her tongue out in response. Because they’re sisters, and she’s allowed to be childish. Or something. “Yes, besides that.”

“I’m trying to figure out why you act like you’re pregnant.”

The statement causes Anna to freeze, a dead giveaway to the older sister who assumed the role of mother when Anna was five. “Why would you say that?” Anna tries to ask nonchalantly.

“Because you can’t stand the smell of the dog.”

“Maybe he needs groomed.”

“You’ve been sleeping a lot,” Julia points out.

“You do know what vacations are for, right?”

“You put your hand on your stomach unconsciously or when you think no one is looking.” Anna opens her mouth to argue, but Julia just looks pointedly at her middle, where her left hand is currently spread across her lower stomach in some attempt at protecting her secret. “I didn’t know you’d met anyone new. Not since that S.H.I.E.L.D. guy.”

She’s says the organization’s name with a hint of disgust—the way most Americans would say it, Anna supposes. But Anna knows better. “Phil,” she says softly. “He’s named Phil.”

“So what’s the new guy like?” Julia asks.

Anna hesitates. She thinks of how Clint is watching from a nearby hotel, ready to come to her aid if she pushes a disguised panic button on her cell phone. She could use him as some proxy guy she’s with. She could make up someone from scratch.

Or she could tell the truth. Mostly.

“It’s Phil’s,” she confesses.

Julia squints her eyes as she tries to put the mystery together, this time without such a polite face. “I don’t understand. I thought you said he died in the Battle of New York.”

“He did,” Anna tells her. “But, we’d talked about kids, and he’d... Just in case something happened, he froze some back-up sperm if I wanted to use it. And so I did.”

“But why?” Julia asks, and she immediately raises her hand in an apology at her tone. “I just mean why now? You’re on your own, you haven’t been part of a symphony in over a year.”

“What, are you stalking me or something?” Anna questions.

“No, I’m trying to be your older sister, if you’d let me from time to time.”

Anna fights rolling her eyes. Five years’ difference does not a parent make, but no one--especially Anna--could tell Julia that after they lost their mother in a car accident. Julia forgets that Anna is nearly forty and damn well capable of making decisions on her own. Mostly.

“I was injured,” Anna explains. “Broke my bow hand and needed time to recover.”

“Surely you have by now,” Julia pushes.

“I’ve got money saved up; I won’t go broke,” Anna says.

“It’s not that I’m worried about,” Julia argues. “You’re getting stuck in the past. You’re trying to revive--literally revive--some relationship that made you move all over the country, worry yourself sick, and for what? Another funeral?”

It takes everything in Anna’s power not to grab her things and storm out of the house then and there. “I love him, Julia,” she grits out. “No matter what, I love him. So yes, I selfishly decided to keep a little piece of him with me for as long as I can, just like any other parent who decides to have a child.”

“Anna, I just don’t know how you’re going to be able to handle being a single mother. Being a parent is a lot of work,” Julia says. She speaks in the overly kind voice that just comes out as purely condescending.

“Well, whatever you do, don’t offer me help, just stand there and judge me,” Anna spits before she marches out of the kitchen. Julia follows right behind her as Anna attempts to flee to the guest bedroom.

“That’s not what I meant,” Julia tries to placate. “I just--“

“You just have been living here in your little suburban castle, walled off from everything,” Anna yells, eyes hot with tears. “But please, continue reminding me about funerals and how I don’t know what it’s like to be a parent.”

“Anna, I think you need to calm down,” Julia says as she moves to stand in the doorway so that Anna can’t pass, even though she has her bag in hand, ready to go. Living with soldiers and agents has taught to always be ready to leave in a hurry, and this is one of those time where those lessons have come in handy.

“I think you need to move,” Anna warns, her voice low and dangerous. She hears other doors open and knows that her niece and nephew are peering out into the hallway to find out what’s going on. Thankfully, her annoyingly pacifist brother-in-law has a meeting at his church tonight and Anna doesn’t have to deal with him.

Julia’s face hardens, but she caves--she always caves--and moves out of the way. Anna rushes past her, hugs her niece and nephew, and makes a break for her rental car. She lets her GPS direct her to Clint’s hotel, and when he opens his door, his eyes widen in surprise. 

“Are you okay?” he demands as he grabs her arm and pulls her into the room, checking the hallway for potential targets as he does so.

“Can I stay here until I can find a flight out? Probably the morning?” Anna asks, her voice shaky. Her eyes have been wet since she stormed out of the kitchen, and she feels like she’s about to explode from emotional overload.

Clint rests a hand on her shoulder. “What’s wrong?” he asks as she starts to choke down sobs.

“Why did you have kids?” she questions.

His head jerks back slightly at the unexpected question. “Ummm, I guess our son was born because Laura thought I was dead but I wasn’t and we got a little horny over it.” He pauses to shrug before continuing. “Our daughter--she was planned--I guess we, I don’t know. Laura wanted a daughter, and I thought if I had my heart broken by having a little girl, I’d stick around more often instead of running as many missions. One of those things happened, but just not all of it,” Clint confesses. “Why?” 

When Anna doesn’t answer because she can barely breathe at the moment, Clint looks her up and down. Anna doesn’t know if there’s already a dead giveaway in her appearance or if he merely put two and two together. “You and Phil? You’re going to have a baby?” he asks, eyebrows raised in surprise.

When Anna nods, he gently wraps her up in a hug. She doesn’t know if it’s the physical contact, the heightened emotions of finally confessing to people about the pregnancy, or the stupid hormones, but the dam within her breaks loose and she just starts sobbing. Clint holds her a little tighter and rubs a hand up and down her back. Once she can breathe normally again, she pulls away from the embrace with an embarrassed smile. “Thanks,” she mutters.

“Phil isn’t making you cry like this, is he?” Clint questions. “Because I have a lot of dirt on him. And that’s nothing compared to what Natasha would do to him.”

“No,” Anna laughs. “Well, maybe a little bit him, but he’s having a rough time. I’m just... How do you not be terrified of something?”

Clint’s eyes cloud over for the barest moment of time. “If you ever find out, let me know.”


	5. 4,722 Hours

_2190 hours ago…_

Phil looks at the glowing files in front of him. They’re numbered one through twenty. Each has its own identity and full genetic work-up; all he has to do is click on the one he wants and read through it. Hair color, eye color, height, sex--all just waiting for him to read. “You sure you don’t want to know?” he asks over his shoulder.

Anna, curled as tightly as possible into the corner of the couch in their suite at Doctor Cho’s complex, shakes her head. “It’s weird enough having to eliminate the possibility of alien DNA and genetic defects. Let’s not have a discussion on designer babies.”

“Fine,” he says. “Which one should we implant?”

“I have terrible luck gambling,” Anna says. “You pick.”

He stares once more at the four-by-five assortment of files floating in front of him. Each one represents an egg that is already fertilized and “cleaned up,” as Doctor Cho had put it. He and Anna haven’t really discussed what to do with the leftover nineteen. Anna was adamant about only placing one. Phil silently wonders if she’d go through it again if it doesn’t work this time. Picking thirteen or seven might be too cliché of a lucky number. “When I saw you solo for the first time, which concerto was it?”

The question brings a wistful smile to her face. “Like you don’t have each concert you went to memorized.”

“Humor me,” he replies.

“Number three,” she answers.

He touches the third file, and the others fade slightly while it glows even brighter. “Number three it is.” He sends the information to Doctor Cho’s team before joining Anna on the couch. Gently, he pulls her closer to him as he rests his feet on the coffee table. “I know this hasn’t been easy on you at all, but I really appreciate you be willing to do it. You know you can still change your mind, right?” He asks the question and accidentally holds his breath. She’s been quiet since arriving in South Korea, for understandable reasons.

“I’m not going to change my mind, Phil,” she reassures. “It’s just-- If someone asked you to go head-to-head with Loki again but promised you that you’d have the best odds you could possibly have, how would you feel the night before you faced him?”

“Scared shitless,” he admits. He leans over and kisses her on the forehead. “Which is one of many reasons why you’re braver than I am.”

Anna snorts at the compliment. “This doesn’t feel like bravery.”

“What does it feel like?”

She thinks for a minute before shaking her head. “It’s just weird. All of it.”

“We could go back to the bedroom and give the old-fashioned way one more shot,” he offers.

Anna slaps him in the stomach. “I think Doctor Cho would kill us for doing that after all the work she’s done.”

He misses his other hand deeply right now. He always misses it. But he has his right arm around her shoulders and longs to bury his left hand in her hair. His mind knows exactly what it would feel like, and he longs for the tactile sensation to calm him. Instead, he has to settle for resting his cheek on top of her head. “Boy or girl?” he asks softly. “What do you think number three is?”

“Don’t care,” she answers. “Never have I believed more in the standard parent answer of ‘I just want a healthy child.’”

He nods in understanding. “Will you want to find out before they’re born?”

“Doesn’t matter to me,” she replies. “I know it’s killing you right now not to delve into each and every file and analyze them all night long.”

“I find background research comforting,” he says.

“Because you’re a nerd.”

“And yet you’re willing to have my child,” he jokes with a smile. He takes this moment and sops it up with all of his might. He shuts his thoughts of Jemma still missing, May still gone, a recovering Bobbi, a quiet Ward--all of it. He shuts it out and for once moment lets himself revel in the fact that tomorrow, if all goes well, Anna will be pregnant. He hopes the world lets him keep this idiotic grin on his face for just a little bit.


	6. Chaos Theory

Anna wakes to the feeling of Phil crawling into bed with her. “It’s nearly noon,” he says softly into her hair before placing a kiss there. She eases back into his embrace, keeping her eyes closed for a second later. “You okay?” he asks. 

She turns in his arms. Thankfully, he’s showered. She spent half of the night after getting his text that he would be sleeping somewhere else wondering what Rosalind would smell like on his skin. “If you have syphilis now, you should get out of the bed. Some of us are allergic to penicillin.”

“We didn’t have sex,” Phil reassures her. She knows that was always the plan, but a part of her still questions. He must read it on her face, because he keeps talking while rubbing a thumb along her cheek. “I blamed the alcohol and the lack of a little blue pill. We did kiss some, but then we just slept.”

“Alcohol and no pill has never stopped you with me,” Anna challenges.

“That’s because it’s you,” he replies. “You’ve successfully ruined me for all other women,” he half-jokes.

“Feeling’s mutual,” she tells him.

They stay quiet for a few minutes before he prods her again. “You sure you’re okay with all of this?”

“No,” she answers honestly. “But what else do you expect from your hormonal whatever title you use for me?”

The corner of his mouth pulls up as his hand slides from her face to her stomach and rests on the bump there. She knows he’d keep his hand plastered there all day if he could, but he keeps his touches somewhat infrequent. He knows she’s still terrified of all kinds of horrible endings, but this morning--rather, this afternoon--it feels okay. Like their bed is the only place in the world and the rest is just a bunch of white noise.

It’s one of the largest lies her mind has concocted, but she holds on to it as tightly as she can.

“Not sleep well last night?” Phil questions.

“Stayed up late waiting for you all to get home, then got your text.”

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I know you said--“

“I said it was fine when we talked about it before and when you texted last night. It’s part of the job, I get it. Most of my brain, anyway.” He pulls her closer, and she tries to bury her face in his neck. It’s going to be a needy day, apparently, as much as she hates it. “Everyone else okay?”

His pause is all she needs to have worry seep into her veins again.

“Who?” she asks.

“We have everyone with us,” he says, trying to be calm and reassuring.

“But?”

“We have Lash,” he tells her.

Anna’s body tenses. “He’s here? Is it--“

“You wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t safe,” he says, a hint of sternness in his voice. Not to be mean, just to let her know how serious he is about his statement.

“It’s funny,” she says. “Andrew came and talked to me a few days ago about what counts as ‘safe’ around here. Almost hinted that I go somewhere else.”

“Andrew said that?” Phil asks.

Anna nods. “Asked if May told him something you weren’t telling me, but he just kind of smiled and walked away.”

“Anna, Andrew is Lash.”

The four words buzz in her ear. Not quite to the degree of hearing from Natasha about Phil’s death or opening the door, seeing uniforms, and knowing her husband was gone. But it’s not insignificant, either. “Andrew?”

“Yeah,” Phil breathes. “Apparently he was looking through some records from Afterlife when he and Melinda got back from Hawaii and transformed.”

“Can he control it?” 

Phil shrugs. “Not really. And Lincoln--he’s back, by the way--pointed out that these things are like an actual metamorphosis.”

“The butterfly can’t be the caterpillar again?” Anna asks. “Even when we’d all much rather have the caterpillar around?”

“Right,” Phil answers. “Rosalind said she might have something that can help them, but I don’t trust her.”

“Did you sleep at all last night?” Anna questions. “Or were you waiting for a trap?”

“Waiting for a trap,” he answers honestly. “Hopefully my fake sleeping skills are still up to snuff.”

“What are we going to do?”

A sigh is her initial answer. “Part of me would feel better moving you somewhere more safe, but the list of possible places is getting smaller and smaller.”

“I’m not leaving you,” Anna tells him. “I’m not going to hide and wait for everything to settle down. We both know that day is forever away, if it exists at all. And I’m certainly not doing this without you.”

Phil scrubs a hand over his face. “Lash is here. Ward is out there somewhere and knows where we are.”

“We need to ask for help,” Anna suggests. “We have to tell them about the baby eventually. I can’t hide it for much longer.”

Phil nods, and she can read the reluctance on his face. “I know. I just feel safer knowing we’re the only ones who know about it.”

“And Clint,” she says. “And my sister, but she still thinks you’re dead, so...”

Phil’s eyebrows raise. “Is this why you refused to talk about how your trip went?”

“Part of it.”

“Hmm,” he hums. “Well, for now, I think we should both sleep for a few hours. And then we’ll see in what new ways the sky is trying to fall down on us.”


	7. Many Tales, One Head

_Family dinner in five_

Phil’s text causes Anna’s phone to vibrate against the bedside table. She puts down her bow and picks it up to read the message. She knows the team has been busy all day; it’s the first she’s heard from anyone in hours. Thus, she’s been holed up in the bedroom, composing on her cello. No solid melodies, just notes to distract her and pass the time.

She sets her cello in the corner and catches her reflection in the mirror. When she smoothes the front of her shirt flat, there’s a noticeable bump showing. Certainly something foreign to her usually small frame. She’s half-tempted to put on a tighter shirt and just let the cat out of the bag, but she’s pretty sure Phil would be hurt if she went off and did the announcing without discussing it with him. But she’s nearly fifteen weeks, and even her baggy shirts are barely cutting it anymore. Thankfully, everyone around her has been distracted with fish oil pills, inhumans, and long-lost astronauts. And if they have noticed, no one has said anything. So either they’re all distracted or just living up to their reputations as good spies.

The sound of lively conversation greets her at the doorway to the lounge where they all meet for dinner at least once a week. She can make out Jemma and Bobbi bickering over which salad dressings to set out. The scents of cheese, tomato sauce, and garlic hang heavy in the air, and Anna sends out a silent thanks for Mack and his habit of stress-induced lasagna making.

She catches sight of Phil and an involuntary smile starts to cross her face, but it freezes half way from completion when she sees another woman standing behind him. She’s short, older than the other ladies in the room, and a brunette. The traits are awfully familiar and causes Anna’s gut to twist. Phil lets a grimace cross his face for a microsecond, and Anna knows who the other woman is.

The actual other woman. Except not really. Because he’s supposed to be faking it. Right? Damn hormones.

“Rosalind, this is Anna,” Phil says. 

The woman extends her hand with a polite smile. “Are you another agent?” she asks.

“No,” Anna answers before turning to Phil. “Can we talk in the hallway for a second?”

“Oh my god,” Rosalind mutters angrily. “You’re with someone?”

“I can explain,” Phil starts, but Rosalind cuts him off.

“So not only did you lead me on, but you were already in a relationship? What, did you two discuss the limits of how far you would take things? Was she in on this too?”

“He’s a good man.” The words are out of Anna’s mouth before she realizes the thought was even there. Everyone turns toward her, and Hunter clears his throat.

“Uh, love, you do realize you’re defending your boyfriend to his fake girlfriend, yeah?” he asks.

“He is a good man,” Anna repeats. “I’m sorry that you were misunderstood, but frankly, we’ve had a lot of shit happen to us over the years and at this point, it’s much easier to be safe than sorry. But, to clarify, we are also sorry.”

“Thank you,” Rosalind replies quietly. “I’m sorry, too. Wasn’t expecting to meet anyone, let alone become attracted to him. Especially someone who already had a girlfriend and thought I was making up being a widow—“

“He what?” Anna interrupts. She whips around to Phil, who is frowning at his shoes. “You did what?”

“I thought we were both playing this game, and I—“

“Did you ever think I was making up David and all the things that happened to us? Did you think I was a plant or a mole or whatever?” He opens his mouth, but she quickly shakes her head. “I don’t want the answer to that. I’m sorry I asked. But I think it may be for the best that you go eat in your office tonight.”

Hunter, once again, decides to verbalize what everyone in the room must be thinking with a low whistle. “Managed to piss off your fake girlfriend and real girlfriend in one go, mate.”

Phil glares at him before turning to Anna. “We can still talk in the hall.”

“We’ll talk later. For right now, I’m going to eat with your friends, and you’re going to go somewhere else.” She turns on her heel before he can try to argue and faces Rosalind. “And for you, I will pour a glass of wine.”

Her eyebrows rise in slight surprise. “Maybe I should’ve been fake dating you all this time instead.”


	8. Closure

Phil blindly stalks from the hangar to his quarters involuntarily. What little part of his brain remains capable of rational thought tries to piece together the words he needs to say to Anna, but they fizzle out of existence as soon as they come to the surface. His mind is too crazed at the moment, firing too quickly and sprinting off in a million directions.

Rosalind.

Ward.

Blood.

Anna.

He stops outside the door to their quarters and forces himself to take a breath. He should shower, or at least change his clothes. The shirt was a gift from Anna—she said purple looked nice on him—and now, it’s covered in blood. He’s not sure what spatter belongs to whom. When he walks in, Anna’s folding laundry, looking as if life is normal and there isn’t a crazed yet skilled assassin on the loose, determined to seek nine kinds of vengeance. Because to her, there isn’t. At least, there isn’t for a second longer.

Then she sees him.

She swears under her breath and rushes up to him. Her hands hover on either side of his face, unsure where to land. “Do you need a doctor?” she asks. “What happened?”

“You have to leave,” he tells her.

Anna takes a step back in surprise, the answer not on the list of responses she was expecting. “What are you talking about? What happened?”

“Rosalind’s dead,” he states bluntly. “Ward put a bullet in her throat.”

Anna’s hand moves to cover her mouth. “How do you know it was Ward?”

“Because he called my cell after he fired the shot to tell me it was him,” Phil says. A knot catches in his throat as he remembers the words that followed from the traitor’s mouth. “He said he wanted to me to watch someone I love die. And that he figured it would’ve been you, but apparently I’d finally wised up and moved on to someone else.” His good hand clenches and unclenches, his heart thudding in his chest. “Anna, you have to leave.”

She shakes her head, loose curls vibrating as she does so. “I still don’t understand.”

“If he knew we were still together, if he knew about the baby—“ His voice cracks on the last word, a thought he can barely stand to have in his own mind. “You have to go. He knows where this base is, and if someone leaks to him that you’re here and that you’re still with me, he won’t hesitate to kill you. And I can’t lose both of you.”

Anna wraps her arms around herself as the words sink in and begins to stare through him. He wants to wrap her up, cocoon her and their child from the mounds of shit he’s heaped upon them. But he’s covered in blood, and she’s had enough of that on her as it is. He mutters an apology, or at least he thinks he does, as he walks past her. He strips out of his clothes, throws what he can’t save in the trash, and gets in the shower. The water is hot enough to scald, and he lets out an involuntary hiss when it hits the open wound in the back of his scalp. He watches the blood dilute and swirl down the drain. He feels like his life is going with it. 

Phil waits until the water remains clear as it runs off his body before he turns off the shower. He gently pats himself dry and takes a quick inventory of marks on his skin. When he walks out of the bathroom, he finds Anna sitting on the edge of the mattress, quietly crying. 

“He doesn’t know I’m here,” she argues quietly. “You’ve vetted and re-vetted everyone at the base. You know they’re loyal. I won’t go anywhere.”

“I won’t keep you caged up,” he says.

“We’d still be together. It would be enough.”

He sighs as he sits down beside her, clutching the towel to make sure it stays wrapped around his waist. “I have to end this.”

“No, you don’t,” she fights. “Phil, please don’t do this. He didn’t hurt me. Don’t fall for this.”

“It has to stop,” he repeats. “Hunter tried. May tried. I have to do it myself.”

“So it’s unacceptable that you might lose me, but there’s no issue with me possibly having to bury you again?” Anna questions. He sets his jaw, and she bristles. “Don’t do this,” she threatens in a low voice. “Don’t be an asshole just to get me to leave. We can’t do that to each other anymore. There’s too much at stake.”

He doesn’t know if she purposely moves her hand to her stomach when she says that, but it has the intended effect. He reaches out with his real hand to cover hers. He wishes she were further along. He may never get the chance to feel the baby move. 

“I still have to end this,” he tells her. “He needs to be taken out.”

“And where will I go?” Anna asks.

“I’ll call Clint.”

She shakes her head. “Ward knows I’ve stayed with him before. The apartment building is out of the question.”

“Ward doesn’t know about the farmhouse,” Phil tells her. “That’s completely off books, and Clint is absolutely paranoid about something happening to his family. Place has better surveillance than anything associated with the name Stark.”

“How long will this take?” Anna says.

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly. 

“If you’re not there when this kid is born, I’ll kill you myself,” she threatens.

“Deal,” he says with a half-hearted smile. He leans in to kiss her, pouring every emotion he can into the contact—grief, love, and an apology all in one. He tries not to think about kissing her goodbye before joining Fury in New Mexico. Attempts to push all thoughts of finality out of his mind, he puts on his brave face. But he knows she can see through it. He rests his forehead against hers. “I’m only doing this because I love you too much.”

“I know,” she says as she runs her thumb along his cheek.


	9. Maveth

Phil watches the flight systems of the Quinjet fly themselves. Well, kind of. It was eighty percent auto-pilot and twenty percent Clint’s remote control of the guidance system in order to steer the craft to the farmhouse. Phil knows he should sleep during the short flight, but he is still too keyed up to do so.

He’d insured his team was as safe and whole as they could be before leaving them in May and Mack’s capable hands. He’d rushed off to see Anna as soon as he could, not even bothering to shower or find a prosthetic replacement.

His head hurts like hell; another reason he shouldn’t fall asleep just yet. Phil also didn’t need to dream about the events on the alien world. That was nightmare fuel strong enough to haunt his waking hours.

A beeping notify final descent pulls Phil out of his thoughts and refocuses him on the present. He has no idea what to say to Anna, but it turns out that’s not the person he needed to prepare a speech for.

When the Quinjet lands and Phil walks up to the farmhouse, Clint is waiting for him on the front stoop. His arms are crossed over his broad chest. It’s an intimidation pose that Phil has seen aimed at others countless ties before, but it hasn’t been directed at Phil in years. Maybe not even since Clint fought to let a captured Natasha become a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent.

“Everything okay?” Phil asks.

“You have any idea what you’re doing to her?” Clint questions.

“You don’t understand,” Phil starts, but Clint cuts him off.

“That’s where you’re wrong. I’ve been a dad a lot longer than you have, and this is one area where I outrank you,” Clint says. “I can’t believe you, Phil. After all the years you’ve watched me have to walk away from my family for missions and how hard that was, and now the instant you’re on your way to having becoming a dad—something we all know you’ve wanted for years—you walk away from her to go to another fucking planet to chase down someone?” Clint pauses, and Phil watches as the man clinches his jaw and reins in his temper. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I had to take out Ward,” Phil answers. “I couldn’t think about having a normal life with him out there as a threat.”

Clint snorts. “There’s always going to be someone out there, Phil. You can’t go chasing after everyone who might start shit, pretending it’s protecting your people. You don’t get to do that anymore.”

“This was personal,” Phil argues.

“So is building a family,” Clint replies. He stares down Phil until Phil has to look away, overcome with guilt. “She’s in the guest room,” Clint says in a softer tone as he moves out of the path to the front door. “She hasn’t had a panic attack in the last twelve hours. Try not to set her off again.”

“Panic attack?” Phil asks. “She’s been having those?”

“Yeah, since—“ Clint’s words drop off in a quick huff of air. “And Laura says I’m a shit communicator,” he mutters. “You know what? If I have to act as a go between for your relationship, you guys are well and truly fucked.”

Phil works his mouth, but nothing comes out. It’s an overwhelming feeling of role reversal for all the times Phil chewed out Clint as his handler for making boneheaded decisions. Silently, he walks past Clint and enters the house. He tries to move as quietly as possible so as not to wake up Anna, Laura, or the kids. Knowing the layout of the home, Phil sneaks up the stairs and slowly opens the door the bedroom at the end of the hall.

Phil, for perhaps the first time in too long, studies Anna’s form in the moonlight. Her face looks thinner. He wonders if she should be larger around her middle. She has a small frame, which is why Phil thought she wasn’t showing as much as she was. But maybe there was another reason, and he was to blame.

Anna stirs amidst a pile of sheets and carefully positioned pillows. She groans, and worry creases her face. Phil edges toward the bed. His hand hovers over her hair, a wild mess of curls. It’s then that he realizes the name she’s murmuring in her sleep is David.

It’s not the first time he’s heard Anna call out for her late husband, and he knows it won’t be the last. If she’s dreaming about him, he knows from experience that she’s having nightmares. He’s not sure what about, since she always refuses to talk about the dream’s content in the morning.

Phil digs his fingers deeper into Anna’s hair and runs his thumb along her forehead. “I’m home,” he says softly. “I’m okay. It’s okay.” It calms Anna down enough to stop mumbling in her sleep. She stills soon after that, and Phil debates on what he should do. He could use a shower, but the pipes are old and loud in the house. He could use a meal, but he can survive a little longer on the ration bar he ate ten hours ago. He decides to stay put and remain awake. He doesn’t want to crawl into bed and disturb Anna. And it’s been too long since he got to sit in the quiet.

He spends the next few hours editing and tooling his plan. Now that Ward is out of the way, there’s a temptation to walk away from S.H.I.E.L.D.. Leave it in May’s hands and take advantage of the lull in the games played with HYDRA and other enemies. Get out before more dark secrets like alien words and ancient monsters are revealed. Because they will be. It’s a never-ending game. You can’t wait for the merry-go-round to stop spinning. You just have to jump off and pray you don’t break any bones when you land.

But he thinks about Andrew. He owes it to May to help find him and do whatever he can to bring the man back out of the monster. Skye—Daisy—could stand a bit more guidance on leading her team of Inhumans. But he vows not to be as absorbed in his work. Clint’s right—he’s wanted a family since forever and now that he’s on his way to achieving that goal, he needs to stop pissing it away. He knows exactly how hard it is to grow up without a father. He’s seen how losing a partner has wrecked Anna’s life twice. He doesn’t want to cause her to go through that a third time.

When Anna eventually wakes, he gives her a warm smile, emotions tight in his throat. “Am I still asleep?” she asks groggily.

His grin widens. “No, sweetheart. It’s okay. It’s me.”

“C’mere,” she orders while tugging on his arm. He complies and maneuvers his way into the bed with her. “Well?”

“He’s dead,” Phil says.

“You’re sure?” Anna questions.

He nods. “I made sure of it. He’s gone, Anna.” She sighs in relief, and he kisses her forehead. “I’m sorry I put you through all of this.”

“Don’t do it again, and we’ll call it even.”


	10. Mid-Season Finale

Anna nuzzles her nose against Phil’s freshly shaven jaw and neck. “You smell good,” she hums. And he does—a mixture of aftershave and coffee that is solely Phil.

“You ready to go?” he asks, and she nods. Laura was kind enough to satisfy her craving of blueberry pancakes while Phil showered. And now, they’re all packed up and ready to leave Iowa. Anna wonders what life at the base will be like now that Ward is dead and HYDRA has been dealt another powerful blow. She knows it’s only a matter of time before a new threat pops up and tries to ruin everything, but for now, Anna will savor the lull in action.

Phil throws both of their bags over his shoulder, takes her hand, and leads her downstairs. Anna hugs Laura, says goodbye to the kids, and thanks the three of them for putting up with her. She turns to say bye to Clint, but he and Phil are huddled in the corner having a quiet chat. Phil almost looks chided, and Anna wonders how much Clint is sharing about her time with his family. She knows she hasn’t been the greatest houseguest the last week, but it was extenuating circumstances.

The men finish their conversation, and Clint walks over to kiss her cheek. “Let me know if you need me to kick his ass,” he says.

Phil leads Anna out to the Quinjet. He stashes their stuff and helps her strap into the copilot’s seat. “Since when did you add pilot to your resume?” she asks.

“Haven’t,” Phil answers. “Clint will get us into the air remotely. Then auto-pilot will take over until May brings us into a landing.”

They sit in mostly comfortable silence as Clint guides the Quinjet into the sky, cloaks it, and sets it on a course for The Playground. “So,” Phil starts hesitantly, “panic attacks?”

Anna wants to take Clint’s name in vain, but she’s also slightly surprised she kept it in the dark for as long as she did. “I was a little stressed last week,” she says.

“Clint said they’ve been going on since before you came to the farmhouse.” Anna owns up to it with a nod. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks.

“Why didn’t I tell my spy agency director boyfriend dealing with a global outbreak of death or drastic genetic mutations about how I sometimes didn’t always feel sane and hyperventilate for an hour?” Anna questions. “Gee, Phil, I don’t know.”

“Anna—“

“I didn’t want to be another burden on your shoulders,” she says. “Call it force of habit from growing up the daughter of a general and being the wife of a special ops soldier. It’s my job to make what little home life you have peaceful and some sort of a haven.”

“You don’t have to do that for me,” Phil says. Anna’s only response is to shrug. “Do you have a certain trigger?”

“Yeah,” she says with a bitter laugh. “Being pregnant. Had to come off some meds. My doctor hasn’t found one that works as well, which is a mess all by itself. And then there’s what happened the last time I had a baby…” She pauses to swallow, swearing to herself that she won’t start to cry, not that she can help it lately. “And then you left to go after Ward, even going to the planet where Jemma was stuck for months. I thought I was cursed to lose both of you.”

“C’mere,” Phil says softly. She undoes her restraints and crawls onto his lap. He rests his hand against her stomach. “No more field missions for me,” he swears. “I’ll stay at the base where it’s safe and run ops from there.”

“Only because you don’t have any more mortal enemies to take out?”

“Well, there was that one guy who outbid me on a mint condition first run Captain America comic book, but I suppose I’ll let that slide,” Phil jokes.

“There’s no way you can stay out of the field,” Anna argues.

“Then I’ll cut back,” Phil says. His fingers run along her stomach. “I thought you’d be bigger by now,” he tells her softly.

Guilt washes over her. She’s done the bare minimum of eating and exercise the last week. The rest of the time was spent in bed, practically in mourning. “Maybe they’re just petite,” she weakly argues.

“We can’t do this to each other, not anymore. And I’m sorry I’ve been too dumb to understand that,” he says, his fingers still gently running over the slight bump. “When’s your next appointment?”

“Couple of weeks,” Anna says.

“Would you mind if Jemma checks you out when we get back? We’re going to have to tell everyone about it eventually.”

“You’re not going to invite everyone into the exam room, right?” Anna questions.

“No,” Phil answers with a smile. “I just… All three of us need to be healthy, which means you and I need to get our act together.”

“Are you suggesting couple’s therapy with Andrew?” Anna jokes.

“Actually, we don’t know where he is right now,” Phil admits.

“What else do I need to know?” she asks, trying to keep a tired tone out of her voice but knowing she’s not exactly successful.

“You heard about who Will is, right?”

“Jemma’s boyfriend she’s been trying to rescue for weeks? Yeah, I think I heard his name tossed around once or twice.”

“He’s dead.”

Anna stills at the news. “Shit,” she mutters. “How’s Jemma?”

Phil grimaces. “I didn’t really stick around long enough to check on her.”

“Phillip Coulson,” Anna sighs.

“I left her in good hands,” he half-whines in his defense. 

The console beeps, alerting them that May is about to take over for descent. Anna kisses his cheek before moving back to her own seat and strapping in once more.

Twenty minutes later, they step off the Quinjet. Phil hands their bags to one of the grunts with orders to deliver them to their quarters. He once again takes her hand and leads her to the lab. Inside, they find a disheveled and pale Jemma. She jumps when she realizes she’s not alone. “Sir,” she greets quickly while rushing to approach them. “If you are here about a new prosthetic, Fitz and Mack are busy with repairs on the _Zephyr_ at the moment. He said they were time sensitive and would take a few hours.”

Anna looks down at his abbreviated arm. “What did happen to your hand?”

“Left it with Ward’s body,” he answers. “I didn’t want to hold my baby with the hand I’d outright murdered someone with.”

“Baby?” Jemma questions.

“That’s why we’re here, actually,” Phil tells her.

“Baby,” the scientist repeats with a little more skepticism.

Anna smoothes her loose shirt over her stomach so that her slight bump is visible. “We were hoping you could squeeze us in for an ultrasound.”

“A baby,” Jemma says sweetly, a smile crossing her face and tears coming to her eyes. “Sorry,” she tells them as she swipes at her face. “We need some good news around here, and this is delightful.” She leads them back to a medical exam room and gestures for Anna to climb onto the bed. “You don’t need to change clothes, just unzip your pants. How far along are you?”

“Seventeen weeks yesterday,” Anna answers.

Jemma spins and shoots them both dirty looks. “Just how long were you planning on keeping this a secret?”

“We’ve been a little busy,” Phil answers weakly.

Jemma tuts at them while applying the ultrasound gel to Anna’s stomach. “The fetus is far enough along for us to check the organs—even find out the sex, if you want.”

“Let’s just start with the heart,” Anna requests, her own pulse pounding in her ears.

Jemma nods knowingly. It takes what is probably only a few minutes but feels like hours before the grainy images with flickers of red and blue show up on the screen. Jemma punches a few keys and a blue holographic imaged hovers in the air.

“What’s that?” Phil asks.

“That is a holographic replica of your baby’s heart, magnified of course.” Jemma paused to look at Anna. “It is one hundred percent normal and healthy.”

Anna swallows a thick knot in her throat. Her hands begin to shake, and Phil reaches to hold on to the one closest to him. “You’re sure? We didn’t know the last time until the baby was born. All the chambers are normal?”

Jemma nodes with a grin. “Absolutely positive.”

Anna releases a breath she’s held since Doctor Cho impregnated her. Perhaps even one she’s been holding for the nearly fifteen years since she lost her son. Phil kisses her hand and says something, but her head is buzzing too loudly to make out the words.

“Shall I continue?” Jemma asks a moment later. Anna nods, and the scientist once again begins to manipulate the technology to check up on the baby’s development. With her greatest fear abated, Anna puts most of her attention on watching Phil’s awed face. She wishes she had a camera to capture his adorable expression.

Once Jemma checks the major organs, she asks, “Will this be a surprise, or do you want to find out what you’re having?”

Anna snorts. “We both know how much Phil hates surprises.”

“It’s true,” Phil admits sheepishly.

After Jemma and the baby work together to capture the right angle, she declares, “It’s a girl.”

“Really?” Phil breathes.

Anna can’t help but laugh. “You’re going to be ruined.”

“Think I might already be mostly there,” he replies before leaning down to kiss her. “A girl,” he whispers against her moth.

“Yeah,” she agrees. “Healthy baby girl.”

Jemma hands Anna a towel to wipe off her stomach, then leaves to give the expecting parents some privacy. Once she’s cleaned up and they most have their wits about them, they exit the lab.

Their arrival causes a group of agents and familiar faces to be found hovering in the hallway. May stares at Phil’s happy face, and a faint expression of confusion appears. “You landed and went straight to medical. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Phil answers, his voice still sounding incredibly thick with emotion. “We’re having a daughter.”

“What?” Skye questions.

“I’m pregnant,” Anna says. “Jemma just told us it’s a girl.”

There’s a few seconds of stunned silence before Mack lets out an excited yell, and then the whole hallway erupts into shouts, congratulations, and hugs. In the midst of it all, Anna can’t believe how much her life has changed in thirty-six hours. Her mind has gone from being utterly sure that she was going to lose Phil again, and then the baby. But now she gets to revel in the growing hope that she gets to keep them both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with that, this story will be on a very brief hiatus until Agent Carter finishes its delightful run and Agents of Shield returns.


	11. Bouncing Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The show is back, and so is this story. Thanks for reading!

Phil walks into the quarters to find Anna asleep on the couch. A number of throw pillows are placed precariously around expanding body to keep her comfortable. In the three weeks since Jemma confirmed their daughter’s heart is healthy and whole, Phil has watched a transformation take place in Anna. Clint was right—before she’d just been doing the bare minimum to keep herself and the baby healthy. But now, she happily eats full meals, doesn’t care about “getting fat,” and even plays her cello again. “Someone has to be the bread winner when you retire,” she reminded him last week.

Anna stirs, struggles to roll over, and smiles at him sleepily. “Welcome home,” she greets. He barely finds enough room to join her on the sofa before leaning down to kiss her. “Mmmm,” she hums into his mouth. “You taste like booze. Good booze. Kiss me some more.” He happily obliges. They lose themselves in long, slow kisses that steadily build in heat and impatience.

Anna pulls away breathlessly. “Do you have an ‘I met the President and we’re best buds now’ boner that needs taken care of?”

“No,” Phil answers hoarsely. “Just an ‘I missed you’ one.”

“One what?” Anna challenges with an evil smile.

Phil grits his teeth. “Boner,” he says reluctantly. His distaste for the word amuses her endlessly. But he’ll suffer through the word choice, as well as the pressure building inside him, to see her breathless, happy, and thoroughly kissed. Anna laughs, and he pulls her up from the couch. “I think there isn’t enough room for sex here with the two of us and all your pillows.” She pouts her bottom lip but then moans when he starts to kiss and nip his way down her neck. They stumble their way toward the bed, and she suddenly jerks away from him. “What’s wrong?” he asks.

“That’s new,” she says while looking at the flesh-colored hand. She gingerly runs her fingers over the artificial skin. “Feels real,” she comments before turning it over and repeating the action along his palm, which causes her to jump back. “Why does it have a Light Bright feature?”

“I actually don’t know,” Phil answers. “Fitz hasn’t covered all the bells and whistles yet. I can take it off, if you want.”

She shakes her head. “It can stay. But your clothes needed to be gone ten minutes ago.”

Afterwards, once they’re both breathing normally and the sweat has cooled on their skin, Phil sits with his back against the brick wall that serves as their headboard. Anna’s head rests in his lap. His fingers tangle in her brown curls, and his eyes are drawn to her bare stomach. “She’s halfway done,” he says.

Anna smiles and spreads fingers across the bump. “The last time the final twenty weeks took a day and forever all at the same time.”

“May said she was proud of me for delegating. Shows that my priorities are changing for the better.” He pauses to rest his artificial hand next to hers, secretly hoping Fitz amped up the sensitivity in the programming. “Is she moving?”

Anna shakes her head. “She was, but not now. She feels dainty in her movements. Very ladylike. Have no idea where she gets that from.”

“What did you do while I was gone?” he asks. “Lunch with Jemma?”

“No,” Anna answers. “I think we’re done having our little widow empathy meals. I’m probably too depressing.”

“I appreciate you helping her through this,” Phil says. “I’m sure she does too.”

Anna shrugs. “Need to do something around here.”


	12. The Inside Man

When she hears her name, Anna spins on her heel as quickly as she can with her center of gravity relocating itself each morning. “I need you,” Daisy says hotly before walking back into the lab. Anna briefly considers acting like she’s hard of hearing or reminding them that she’s the Director’s… something and that she can’t be ordered around by agents, but honestly, she’s bored with Phil gone and her fingers needing a break from her cello. 

“What’s up?” she asks as she walks into the room. She can tell by the tight faces that this isn’t going to be a fun conversation. Great.

“FitzSimmons think they’ve found a vaccine against inhumans, and Lincoln thinks it’s a good idea,” Daisy informs her. Her anger and betrayal is obvious. 

Jemma smiles in her sweet attempt of a placating way. “As an expectant mother—“

“Nope,” Anna replies as she turns from the room. “Not getting into the middle of this.”

“So you agree with them, too?” Daisy asks.

Anna’s shoulders slump and she turns back to face them. “Look, my baby will get all her vaccinations. They’re important, and anti-vaxxers are ridiculous.” She’s fairly certain she hears both Leo and Jemma mutter simultaneous amens under their breath . “They’re dangerous because they are adamant about protecting health and rights when they’re doing the opposite and causing everyone to become fearful.” She pauses to turn to Daisy and makes sure her voice is soft and kind. “I know you think you’d be doing the right thing by preventing this, but you’re just joining in with the anti-vaxxers.” 

“It would eliminate my species,” Daisy answers.

“And some days I wish there was a vaccine to eliminate my species,” Anna retorts. “It wouldn’t kill you all. You’d still be alive and completely capable of having happy lives.”

“But we wouldn’t be whole,” Daisy fires back. “It’s like lopping off a limb of everyone who’s born. They still get to live, right?”

“It’s not that extreme,” Lincoln argues.

“Yes, it is,” Daisy says before turning to Anna. “What if your child is an inhuman? What if she could have the most beautiful, beneficial-to-society gift? Would you keep her from that?”

“It would also be just as likely that it’s something that could cause harm. Like she’s a vampire baby who’s already growing teeth and she’s going to eat her way out of me during childbirth?” When they all look at her strangely, she shrugs. “I will reluctantly admit that I’ve read the _Twilight_ books .” She focuses her attention once more on Daisy. “You and I both know that these gifts can be wondrous, beautiful, and life-saving. But we also know that they can be twisted into wreaking havoc and causing unimaginable damage. And if you’re asking me know if I’d run the risk of living that or just have a regular old human child, I’m going to pick the latter. I will take a boring, ordinary life any day of the week if it means the ones I love are safe.”


	13. Parting Shot

Phil’s grip on Anna’s hand tightens as they walk into the bar together. All the other members of the team are in place since May wanted to keep his entrance last in case something went south. He agreed only because of Anna’s presence.

He knows the drill. He hasn’t performed the ritual too many times, but the number is still enough. He tries to convince himself that this is better than another funeral. But it’s not. Because his people will be out there in the world, and there’s no way for him to protect them.

Phil and Anna grab stools at the end of the bar closest to the back exit. He puts her at the actual end, shielding her body with his. The intelligence officer trailing Bobbi and Hunter sits a few stools down the way and is obvious. The suit is a dead giveaway, and Phil takes it as a compliment to Bobbi and Hunter’s skills that the government didn’t even bother with someone covert.

Phil notices that the bartender starts getting a number of orders for tequila shots, and he signals that he’d like to place an order, as well. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches that the intelligence agent is sitting up a little straighter, his attention clearly piqued by something. Before Phil realizes it, Anna has slipped off her stool and is sitting next to the agent. It may cause the man’s attention to be more focused on Phil, but causes the agent to turn his back to the rest of the bar.

“A shot for him,” Anna orders while hooking a thumb in the agent’s direction.

“I can’t drink, ma’am,” he replies.

She smoothes a hand over her stomach. “Neither can I. You pregnant, too?”

“Uh, no, but—“

“Then have a drink,” Anna pushes.

The stranger forces a smile. “I can’t do that, ma’am. I’m on duty.”

“In a bar?” Anna questions. When he doesn’t respond, she sighs and looks around the establishment. “Give his shot to them, then,” she tells the bartender while nodding in the direction of Bobbi and Hunter’s table. 

“You know them?” the agent asks.

Anna shakes her head. “But they look young, happy, and in love, and I’d kill to be any one of those three right now.” Phil knows she’s acting, but he still feels a little bit of a dig. She looks back over for a split second and winks at him, and her reassurance that she’s putting on a show mildly helps.

Anna gets a glass of water from the bartender and gives a small toast gesture in Bobbi and Hunter’s direction. They subtly return the gesture. Once she finishes her drink and tosses some cash onto the bar, she walks out of the back entrance. Phil’s grateful that she makes sure to brush her arm along his back as he passes.

When it comes to his turn, his salute is anything but covert. He doesn’t care. His chest feels like it’s going to explode and even though his brain is doing everything it can to find an alternate solution for the spies’ fate, he once again comes up empty. Besides, this was their decision, and he should respect that.

He’s the last member of the team to leave the bar and has given orders for all of them to take the night off—stay wherever they want as long as they’re careful about it. Anna’s waiting for him in the alley when he leaves, eyes locked on the shadows of Mack and Fitz. The larger man, who is quite possibly more torn up than Phil, leans heavily on Fitz’s shoulder as they walk away.

When Anna realizes he’s behind her, she turns and gives him a reassuring smile before kissing the corner of his mouth. “They’ll be okay,” she says.

“Which they?” Phil asks.

She sighs and shrugs. “I didn’t know what else to say.”

“They’re going to do that for me soon, you know,” he comments, his eyes drifting down to her stomach. 

“Well, at least by then I’ll be able to drink, too.”


	14. Watchdogs

Daisy smiles at Anna as she walks into the kitchen and extends the coffee pot in her direction. “Here for your approved once-a-day cup of coffee?”

Anna takes the coffee pot and slams it down on the counter. Thankfully, it doesn’t shatter and spray glass and hot liquid everywhere—she didn’t entirely think this one through—but it has its intended effect. Daisy’s eyes grow wide, and Anna catches how the young woman’s fingers flex in preparation of an attack. “You have to stop this shit,” Anna warns.

“What are you talking about?” Daisy demands.

“This ‘I think I’m in charge so I’m going to do whatever the hell I want, teammate safety be damned’ act.”

Daisy looks at her feet. “I didn’t mean for Mack to get hurt. Those idiots should’ve gone after me—“

“But they didn’t, and whose fault is that?” Anna asks hotly.

Daisy’s head snaps up, and Anna can tell she’s trying to control her guilt-ridden temper. “I’m pretty sure you don’t have any authority to tell me what to do.”

“Officially? No. But let me tell you what’ll happen if you don’t grow up: Phil won’t leave.” She pauses a moment to let those three words sink in. “He’ll see that he’s put someone in charge who isn’t ready for it, so he’ll stick around until you act like the leader you’re supposed to be. And until that moment? He’s going to be here and treating every mistake you make as his own.” Anna pauses again to get her own temper in check since she’s starting to feel her own pulse in her temples, and that’s probably not a good thing. “I need him,” she admits hoarsely, her fingers spreading out to cover her bump and protect daughter. “I need him more than you do. I’m not going to raise her on my own. Don’t take her father from her, and don’t you dare deprive him of his child. Not when he’s fought this long and hard to get her.” 

Anna’s obnoxious hormones begin to flare and she can feel hot tears falling down her cheeks without permission. She quickly snags an apple and a protein bar and retreats to her quarters. Sniffling while eating her breakfast, she tries to calm herself. The baby flutters a few times, and she strives to memorize every sensation.

Anna spends her next few hours practicing her cello. She works through some of her memorized repertoire, focusing on her technique. While she could cut it as a high level instructor, she’s too out of practice to make it into a symphony—or at least, one that’s worth the paycheck. And if Phil truly walks away from all of this, someone is going to have to put food on the table. She indulges herself for a moment and imagines Phil as a stay-at-home dad: cooking his simple yet delicious meals, impeccably folding laundry, fussing over messes. It will drive him crazy, she knows. But there will be a tiny girl—dark curls, small stature, quiet yet mischievous. He’ll chase her around, make her laugh, tend to her bruises, and love her so much it makes Anna’s chest hurt.

She jumps when the door opens and breaks her out of her daydream. “Just me,” Phil says. “You okay?”

“Hormonal mess, but otherwise fine. You?”

“Thought I was going to have to either dress down Daisy or guilt trip her. Imagine my surprise when someone had already beaten me to both of those punches.”

“I’m not going to apologize,” Anna warns.

The corner of Phil’s mouth pulls up into a smile. “I wasn’t expecting you to.” He pauses to sit beside her and kiss her temple. “You wanna talk about it?”

“Since I’ve already cried once today? No. How’s Mack?”

“Jemma just released him,” Phil answers. “Fitz is hovering like a mother hen. And Mack is growling at everyone since he found out that Fitz was shot in the neck with a bomb.”

“It’s not a fun position to be in,” Anna reminds him.

“Sorry,” Phil murmurs. “How can I make it up to you?”

“Find me apple pie to appease your daughter.”


	15. Spacetime

Phil sits in his momentarily quiet and empty office. Intel has just sent him a hastily put together bio of the latest Inhuman. He used to teach and he had to leave his family behind because any sort of physical contact caused terrible visions of death.

Phil’s mind can’t help but think of his own childhood and growing up without his father. His father’s former students had come to the funeral, chucked him on the shoulder, and told him stories of how his dad affected their lives. Phil’d held onto those stories, daydreamed about how his father would’ve helped him handle all those big life moments: learning to drive, asking out a girl, deciding where to go for college, how to be a man.

He stares at the family picture in the file, specifically at the man’s wife and toddler daughter. It should break something in him to see that family torn apart, but it’s sadly what usually happens in his life and the lives of those closest to him.

He double-checks the door to make sure no one is in the hallway waiting to speak with him. He hits the button on the desk that completely closes him off—blinds drawn, doors shut and locked, incoming calls blocked unless they’re emergent. It was the procedure he used to call on when he needed to carve mysterious shapes into whatever surface was available. Now, it’s used to pull up and edit a file no one—not even May or Anna—knows about.

He and Anna can talk about plans and dreams all they want, but he knows (and so does she) that reality will always catch up with you. Instead of stopping a break up, it’ll call you to New Mexico and then back to New York, where you’ll be stabbed through the heart. And since Phil feels like he won’t get another second chance at everything imaginable (even if T.A.H.I.T.I. was a nightmare and a half), he started this file.

The first entry was made in South Korea while Anna slept after the implantation process. Both Dr. Cho and Anna had told him not to get his hopes up—the procedure didn’t guarantee a viable pregnancy. But Phil had lost enough time already.

Whenever he gets a free moment, he writes a new entry. Some are typed, some vocally recorded so that no matter what, his daughter will have a recording of his voice. Phil thinks he can mostly remember what his dad sounded like, but time has challenged the accuracy of those memories. 

He decides to type this one, and a writing prompt materializes on the large screen at the opposite end of his office.

_Dearest daughter—_

_I swear we’ll name you eventually, when your mother and I get the courage to have that conversation. Hopefully within three days of your birth. I’ll apologize again for when you get here and we’re not completely prepared. We’re terrified of screwing you up. Even if that seems to be a parental rite of passage._

_I’m sitting here looking at the picture of a girl. She’s eighteen months old in the image, and two things blow my mind._

_The first: you’ll be her age in twenty-one months. It seems forever away, but I know it’ll pass in a blink of an eye._

_The second: when do babies get teeth? She has some, but I never stopped to really wonder when that happens. I’ll do some more research._

_I swear your mother and I will be prepared for when you show up. Mostly._

_Love you so much already,  
Dad_


	16. Paradise Lost

Anna hears the door to the quarters open but doesn't get out of bed, doesn't respond when a voice calls out for her. He's smart, he'll find her eventually. Hard to miss the woman in her second trimester lying on top of the made bed.

“There you are,” Clint says with a noticeable tone of relief. “Didn't you hear me call for you?”

“I don't need a babysitter,” she responds. 

“Who said that was my job?”

“Clearly Phil,” she answers. “Everyone else is gone. Why else would you be here?”

“Maybe I missed you and wanted to say hi,” he tells her, and she can feel the mattress dip as he sits on Phil's side of the bed. She huffs in disbelief as she sits up with her back resting on the headboard. Clint nudges his shoulder against hers. “Can’t we be friends?”

“Sure, but you’re here to babysit me.”

“Phil was a little nervous. Said he told you something big and you kind of went all silent on him. And not like when women are pissed at their guy, more the kind of ‘I’m in shock and might need medical attention’ way. And since you’re growing a kid and all—“

“You’re babysitting,” Anna summarizes.

“I’m babysitting,” Clint agrees. “Do we need to play a game? Braid hair? What do babysitters do?”

“Leave me alone,” Anna answers. “I’m a big girl.”

“A big girl who—“

“What was there to say?” she asks with exasperation, feeling the weight of everything crashing down on her again. “Nothing I could possibly say can fix the situation. I’m growing him a child, and that’s not even enough.”

“What are you talking about?” Clint questions.

With a grunt, she gets off the bed and begins to pace the width of the bedroom. “He killed Ward because he was a traitor and a murderer and just all around evil. But on top of all of those things, Ward kidnapped me and used me as bait. Phil would’ve killed him for that alone and probably had that as his leading motivation to end him.” She pauses to run a hand through her messy hair, fingers getting caught in slightly unkempt curls. “So then he chases Ward down—jumps out of a plane to teleport to another planet to do so—and kills him. Except he forgot to check and make sure no evil, powerful alien was lying about to use Ward’s body as a host. And while traveling back through the portal, he didn’t have time to look over his shoulder and make sure no one followed him because he left a deadly alien planet and came back to having guns pointed at him.” Her hands clench together in frustration at her sides, and her headache flares when her jaw tightens. “He’s brought back a monster, and all because he was trying to protect his family. Do you know how much guilt he’s dealing with right now? So much that there aren’t any words I could say to assuage him.”

“You sound like Pepper,” Clint notes. She gives him a questioning look and Clint continues. “Tony created an AI to try and make things better, safer. Then it somehow inherited his jaded-son complex and tried to destroy all of humanity.”

“Please don’t ever tell Phil you compared him to Stark.”

Clint grins. “If I do, I’ll make sure to secretly send you video of his face.”

“So what’s Pepper have to do with all of this?” Anna asks.

“Tony hasn’t been doing great. He’s not obvious about it, but after the Battle of New York, we know the tics to look for.” He shrugs and studies his fingers. Anna doesn’t know if he’s mimicking Tony’s habits or revealing his own. “Think he’s about ready to shut everything down, pass off the power to someone else, and then just retire to the life of a hermit surrounded by his tools.”

“How do you feel about that?”

Clint shrugs. “Haven’t decided yet. Figure I might as well fight for good while my beat up body lets me.” He pauses to nod at her stomach. “Named that thing yet?”

Anna shakes her head while grazing her fingertips along the swell caused by her growing baby. “Got any suggestions?”

“Francis works for a boy or a girl,” Clint suggests.

“Not sure it really works for either,” Anna responds, and Clint grins again.


	17. The Team

The small kitchen area is filled with the aroma of coffee and the spicy herbal tea that Anna has always loved (and is extremely snooty about). He grabs his grumpy cat mug from Skye and fills it to the brim with the light roast that May picks up whenever there’s a mission to Central America. After which she hoards who-knows-where like it’s precious gems, which it probably is in her mind.

Clint and Anna laugh at one of May’s dry jokes, and the sound brings a smile to Phil’s face. He turns and perches on a stool at the head of the metal table. Predictably, Anna immediately tries to shove her nose into his mug. He knows by the look of her face—and her whining on the matter—that she greatly regrets that no one at the base is willing to share a pot of decaf coffee with her. Once she inhales the scent of the hot drink, she pouts at her mug of tea. He nudges her knee with his own before nodding at Clint and May.

“Might as well,” Anna replies. “Who knows when all four of us will be in the same room at the same time again?”

May’s eyebrow arches in interest, and while Clint’s body looks lax and slouched in the chair, Phil knows that he’s closely paying attention. “In case you hadn’t heard, Anna and I are going to parents.”

Anna rolls her eyes and puts her hand on his. “Let me skip over the obvious and lame parts of whatever speech Phil’s written in his head: we need godparents. You in?”

Unless you knew them both, you wouldn’t be able to see the ticks of surprise and sentiment that cross both May and Clint’s faces. “You’re sure?” May asks. 

“Who else do we hang around? It’s not like either of us have family to take on the titles,” Anna rebuts. “You all are my friends, too, and heaven knows you know how to handle emergencies and protect people if need be. Good enough for my book.”

“What about your sister?” Clint questions.

“Absolutely not,” Anna answers.

“You two were our first choices,” Phil agrees. “If you don’t want the responsibility, that’s fine. We understand.”

“I’m in,” May says softly. “Thank you.”

“Welcome,” Phil replies with a smile. “Clint?”

The agent stares at his own coffee mug for a moment before quietly admitting, “I’m a shit dad.”

“Well, then it’s a good thing you’ll only be her godfather and not Dad,” Phil reassures. 

“Unless I decide to leave Phil for you,” Anna adds with a wink.

That causes the corner of Clint’s mouth to turn up. “Guess I can’t screw up the kid too badly if I’m just a godfather.”

Before Phil can say anything else, the ground begins to rumble. The logical part of his mind begins to run through maps of fault lines to see what tectonic plate might be throwing a fit, but then his brain abruptly informs him that it isn’t a thing doing this, it’s a person. “Daisy,” he mutters under his breath. As he does, the intensity of the shaking increases. 

Showing his protection skills, Clint quickly jumps up and pulls Anna under the metal table with him. “Go,” he shouts to Phil. “We’ve got her.”

His jaw clinches as he tries to sort out his priorities. Unfortunately for right now, they lie with the base, something Anna is all too familiar with. He bolts from the room and follows his gut to the hangar. By the time he arrives, debris is falling from the ceiling. The hangar door is predictably locked, and communications have been knocked out. He pounds on the door with his prosthetic, but it only dents the metal. Phil shouts Daisy’s name, and then Skye’s. Neither get him anywhere. It’s the last thing he does before the ceiling falls in on him.


	18. The Singularity

_At least this time it’s only a broken bone_ , she tells herself. A bone that was sticking out of the flesh of his leg, but still just a broken bone. And lacerations across his face. And a surgery to fix the compound fracture. She stops the list and shakes her head. Anna knows all too well that Phil has survived worse, but it has yet to make sitting at his bedside easier.

She’s fine, and so is their daughter. Lincoln and Jemma had scanned her a hundred times just to make sure. She was fine with the first fifty, but then the tests just became obnoxious. A hand comes to rest on her shoulder, and she knows without looking that it’s Clint’s—he’s the only one other than Mack and Skye that is willing to touch her. The hand isn’t quite big enough to be Mack’s, and Skye… 

“This is going to gut him,” she says aloud.

“I know,” Clint agrees. “But we both know he’s going to be pissed as hell if he wakes up and sees you still here. He ordered me to take you out of here before he went in for surgery. But he’s going to wake up and see you still here and be furious at both of us.”

“No, he’ll wake up from surgery and be horny, like he always is after anesthesia,” Anna corrects. “And then he’ll be pissed.”

“He does act like that, doesn’t he?” Clint mutters.

Anna raises an eyebrow in his direction. “And here I thought I was the only one he’s ever begged for a quickie with.”

Clint rolls his lips. “It wasn’t like that.”

“I’ll leave if you tell me the story,” Anna challenges.

“Fine, on the Quinjet, I swear. But can we please just get out of here?”

“I’ll be in the hallway in a minute,” she says as a dismissal. Thankfully, he complies. She turns back to Phil and lightly runs her fingers along his scalp before kissing an unscathed spot on his forehead. “I love you,” she whispers. “I’ll yell at you later for making sex even more awkward with me getting huge and your busted leg. Behave yourself.” She sits still for a moment, quietly hoping he’ll wake up, his temper be damned. But he stays asleep; she wonders for a second what he’s dreaming about. Hopefully something nice. She kisses him one last time and walks out of the medical ward to find Clint and May talking in the hallway. “Keep him off his feet,” she tells May.

“You and I both know that’s not likely,” she responds.

“Use one of those night-night guns if you have to,” Anna tells her.

“And if you do, take a video of it,” Clint adds. He then puts his hand and Anna’s back and pushes her towards the hangar. “C’mon. We need to get out of here.”

“And go where?”

“Wherever,” he answers. “I’ve already got a bag packed. Just need to get you out of harm’s way. Any requests?”

She ponders her options. Pepper would take them into Stark Tower with open arms. But then, she’d have a pregnancy to explain and Tony gawking at her. She knows D.C. well enough to hide there. Clint’s farmhouse in Iowa is an option, but Anna doesn’t want to impose on his family. “Fury have anymore cabins? Somewhere nice and quiet?”

Clint nods. “We can be at one in an hour.”


	19. Failed Experiments

Phil sinks into his office chair with a heavy sigh that quickly morphs into a groan as pain shoots up his leg . He grits his teeth and tells himself that he doesn’t need to take the pain meds Lincoln’d prescribed him. He has to keep his mind clear. He could work on reports, but instead, he reaches for his cell phone and dials Anna’s number.

“Hey,” she greets after two rings. “How’s things?”

“Better now that I can hear your voice,” he responds.

“Suck up,” she says, but despite the insult, he can hear her affection in her voice. “You staying off your leg?”

He cringes slightly. “If I lie, will it make you feel better?”

“Phillip,” she sighs . It’s an impressive impersonation of his mother, who she never had the chance to meet. But there’s a slight comfort in hearing someone chide him using his full name.

“You doing alright? Clint taking care of you?”

“Clint left yesterday,” she admits quietly. “Your beloved Captain Rogers called him in for something important in Europe.” 

“And when were you planning on telling me?” he asks, his gut churning with sudden fear and anger. He has half a mind to text Clint while he’s on the phone with her, if not tasking May to drag him physically into his office. 

“Phil, I’m the daughter of an Army general from Texas. Pretty sure I could fire a gun before I could walk,” she reminds him. “Besides, we are literally in the middle of nowhere.”

“I can send Bobbi and Hunter to you,” he offers.

“No you can’t, because you disowned them and can’t communicate with them anymore. Not without causing a hell of a lot of trouble for all three of you.”

He hates when she’s right . “How’s she doing?”

Anna sighs, and she can picture her rubbing a hand over her stomach. “Napping at the moment. I should do the same since when she’s awake, she is really awake and determined to keep me up to party with her.”

“Hard to believe she could safely be here in ten weeks,” he muses.

“She’ll be here before we know it,” Anna agrees. “And definitely before either one of us is ready.”

“I think I might lose Daisy,” he confesses . It’s an abrupt change of subject, but he needs to talk through it with someone.

“I know,” Anna says with an understanding and empathetic tone. “And I know you don’t believe it, but you have put up a hell of a fight for her. It’s not your fault.”

“You aren’t even here to know what’s going on,” Phil says.

“No, but I know you,” she replies. “I know how hard you fight for your people. How hard you love them. It’s why I can’t walk away from you no matter how hard I’ve tried. Or how many times you’ve tried to die on me.” 

He smiles, his throat getting thick. He needs to sleep and to stop hurting, or he’s going to start crying as much as Anna and her hormones do— not that he’d say such a thing aloud at the moment. “You sure you’re okay by yourself?”

“Clint left me a panic button that I think will contact every agency and military in the world, so we’re fine.”

“I’m sorry I’m not there,” he says.

“Me too, but it’s okay, Phil. I promise. Now get stuff done so I can come back home, and stay off your damn leg.”

“I’ll try,” he says.

“Bullshit,” she mutters. “Love you.”

“Love you, too.”


	20. Emancipation

Phil is the only one in the hangar when the Quinjet’s doors open via remote control, which is how Anna was flown back to the base since she’s the only occupant on the plane. Immediately, she begins to glare at the fact that he is only using a cane. “Bigger fish to fry,” he tells her.

“I know,” she replies before kissing him. “But since you’re the most important fish to me…”

“Appreciate that,” he says as he pulls her bag off of her shoulder.

“Thanks for flying me home.”

“Any word from Clint?” Phil asks.

Anna shakes her head. “There was the big blow up with everyone, and now it’s all quiet, at least from the Avengers. The news won’t shut up about it. He hasn’t called me, even though I’ve tried a hundred times to get a hold of him. Have you heard anything?”

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Phil reassures, but she can hear the thin line of worry in his voice.

“I hate being involved with spies,” she mutters. “Do I have time to freshen up, or do we have to do this thing now?”

“They’re waiting on us, sorry,” he says. “I can delay a little bit if you want, but it’s just us. No need for you to look fancy.” He pauses as they approach the doorway out of the hangar and rests his flesh hand on her stomach. “Bigger than when you left.”

“Let’s not rub that in, okay?”

“Sorry,” he chuckles. “How’s she doing?” As if on command, their daughter attempts a barrel roll inside of Anna, but since freedom to roam is becoming harder and harder to find, it causes Anna to grimace slightly. Phil’s awed face falls at the sight of her rolled lips. “She hurting you?”

“Not hurting necessarily,” Anna says. “Just uncomfortable. And it will only get worse.”

Phil leans forward and kisses her temple. “Missed you,” he whispers into her hair.

“You too,” she replies and leans into his body a little. Knocking either one of them off balance seems like an incredibly easy thing to do at the moment and would be a mess and a half to recover from. “I’m sure May wants to get this over with. C’mon.”

The rest of the base's personnel is crammed into the common kitchen area. Everyone holds a shot glass with a finger’s worth of amber liquid, and there is an unclaimed drink sitting in the middle of the table. Mack offers a glass to Phil and an empathetic half-smile to Anna, which she returns. The mechanic looks beat to hell. Most of the people in the room do, whether from obvious bandages or the haunted look in their eyes. Phil had told her that things had gotten a little bad, but as usual, he was being king of the understatement.

There is a new person to the group hanging out in the corner, clearly feeling awkward at being there. But his uniform emphasizes his stoicism and knowledge of the importance of such rituals. Anna is sure she’s seen him somewhere before, but she blames pregnancy brain for making it difficult to match a name to the mustached face.

In the opposite corner is May. She keeps her eyes straight forward, but they look distant. Outwardly, she’s daring someone to take the risk of offering her condolences on losing her husband, but Anna knows she’s a wreck inside. Suddenly all the memories for both David and Phil’s funerals come crashing down, and her breath catches. Phil’s hand immediately goes to her back in a silent question of if she’s okay. Anna offers him a little smile as an answer. He eyes her a moment more before stepping into the middle of the room. Using the quiet, kind voice that was one of the things Anna first fell in love with, he tells stories about Andrew—how they thought the professional thing to do was to learn how to play golf but how they were both terrible at it, how Andrew had helped Phil deal with his mental health after being resurrected, and about the times they would play pranks on each other until May put them both to shame.

Others join in, sharing little stories or praising qualities of Andrew they admired. Anna feels the urge to participate, but she knows she’ll turn into a sobbing mess the instant she opens her mouth, and no one needs that. Once the room falls quiet, Daisy leads them all in raising their shot glasses. As soon as the liquid is swallowed, May slips out of the room. Phil takes a step to follow, but Anna quickly grabs her wrist. “Don’t,” she orders. “Leave her be for a little bit. She’ll come out of hiding when she’s ready. Trust me.”


	21. Ascension

Anna stirs when the hand comes to rest on her shoulder. She startles, and Clint immediately looks guilty for waking her. He mouths an apology and crouches down next to her, grimacing as his knee pops. “Thought for a second you might be Phil,” Anna whispers while stretching out as best as she can in her plastic bedside chair—a piece of furniture clearly not meant for women approaching both their fortieth birthday and their due date. 

“Sorry,” Clint replies softly. “Phil okay?”

“As far as I know,” she answers. “You?”

“Never talking to Stark again and feeling no need to be in small rooms or near the ocean any time soon.” When Anna squints at the statement, he shrugs. “Long story. I’ll fill you in later. Who’s this?” he asks while nodding towards the bed.

“Yo-Yo,” Anna answers. “One of the Inhumans.”

“Not her real name, right?”

“Really, Clinton Francis?” Anna challenges.

He pulls a grumpy face. “I didn’t pick my name.”

“I know,” Anna reassures while poking him in a thickly muscled shoulder. 

“What happened?” Clint asks.

“Base was attacked. Phil got me out, and I’m in charge of staying with Yo-Yo while she heals.”

“How did the base come under fire?” Clint questions.

“Long story,” Anna fires back before stretching her hand in his direction. “Help me up. I need to move.” Clint gently tucks an arm under hers and slowly pulls her upright. She wants to argue that she’s not an ancient invalid, but it’s her turn to grimace when her muscles stretch and something pops. 

“Getting old sucks, doesn’t it?” Clint comments with a grin.

“Try being old and pregnant,” Anna replies as she takes his arm and leads him out of the room. 

“She okay by herself?” Clint asks while looking over his shoulder.

Anna nods. “This place is safe.”

Clint eyes her expanding stomach, which feels like it’s grown in size since she fell asleep a couple hours ago. “How you doin’?”

She shrugs, not knowing exactly what to say. “Tired. Achy.”

He sighs and pulls her a little closer. “How are you really doin’?”

She rolls her lips as tears prick her eyes. The fear of running around an occupied and overheated base is still too visceral in her blood. “Scared.”

“About what?”

“Everything,” she breathes as she swipes at her eyes. 

Clint pulls her into a quiet and half-lit offshoot of the main hallway. “Do I need to get you away?”

She quickly shakes her head. “This terrified Phil, me being there when shit went down. If I’m not here when he shows up… I can’t do that to him.”

“Okay,” Clint says gently, “but what about long term? I know you guys talked about a plan for him to phase out of S.H.I.E.L.D., but Mama, this baby is going to come and soon. Neither of you wants to—“

“You don’t think we know that?” Anna hisses. “You don’t believe we were constantly trying not to think about what things would look like if the attack happened two months from now when we have a newborn?” She wants to argue more, but her breath becomes ragged and too quick.

He wraps her into a sideways hug because her stomach is too much of an obstacle to reach around. “Okay, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to scare you,” he says calmly while rubbing a hand up and down her back. “Of course you know how scary parenting can be. I’m sorry. Rough week for me.” 

She sniffles and considers blowing her nose on his shirt, but refrains. “We do have a plan,” she tells him. “And honestly, I think this is really the end. Sure, there will be other things crop up, but it feels like some kind of finality is in the air and we’re going to be okay.”

“Yeah?” he asks.

“Yeah,” she reaffirms. “And you know how pessimistic I can be, especially about Phil’s career and lifestyle. But this…” She sighs and runs a shaky hand through her mass of sticky, insane curls. The small stretch makes the baby think she can have the space to expand all her limbs. Anna rubs her stomach as an apology for the lack of room. “I think this is the end. And if it’s not, I think it’s enough for Phil to make the end for him, at least.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends this story in the Cellist universe. I'll start the summer hiatus story, "Six Months Later", within the next month. Thank you for reading, as always. I'm sorry I suck at returning comments, but it thrills me every time I get an email saying someone has left me a note on a story, especially this series. So thank you.


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